Deadly Charm by Claudia Mair Burney

removed my coat, shoes, and hosiery, right there in the foyer. I worked my way to the bathroom, which I seemed to have to do every half hour, and finally to my bedroom. I laid my blouse across the chair beside the chest of drawers, right next to my great-grandmother’s Star of Bethlehem quilt. Not much in this world offered the comfort that protective covering did. At times it had been my shield and armor. Sometimes it served as arms to hold me, other times as something to keep me warm.
    Maybe it could be all of those now. I cradled it against my chest. I crawled into bed without bothering to put on my pajamas and wrapped the quilt around me. I scooted under the comforter and felt so safe and warm that I promptly fell asleep.
    I’m at the Rock House. Children are everywhere. They’re playing and running and sitting in the seats. Children of all ages and sizes, and it’s a happy place.
    A little girl walks up to me, and she looks like me. I say, “Hi, sweetie.” And she says, “Hi, Mommy.” Whenshe calls me Mommy, I realize she’s my daughter Imani, and I cry and cry because I’m so happy to see her. She lets me cry and kisses me on the forehead. For a moment I think that she doesn’t look anything like Adam, and I’m comforted by that. Then she is holding baby Zeekie’s hand. I bend down to kiss him, and he blows a raspberry on my lips. I laugh, close my eyes, and throw my head back, but something is terribly wrong. My laughter sounds way too loud. Forced. When I look down again, Imani and Zeekie turn into skeletons—all the children turn into hideous decayed bodies, and they all are screaming, “Help me, Help me!”
    I wake up screaming.
    I felt arms around me—real arms, instead of my great-grandmother’s quilt. My eyes hadn’t adjusted in the dark room, and I screamed like a madwoman, especially since I distinctly remembered going to bed alone. Adrenaline rushed through me, even though I hadn’t fully awakened, and I pummeled my intruder with desperate punches until his arms clamped around me.
    â€œBell, it’s Jazz. Stop hitting me.”
    â€œJazz?” My body realized the truth of his statement before my mind. His scent, mingled with cigar smoke and faint traces of Jack Daniels invaded my senses. He loosened his grip a bit.
    â€œI’ve got you,” he murmured in my ear.
    Still, my heart nearly burst out of my chest.
    â€œWhat are you doing here?” I yelled, not intending to.
    â€œI was asleep, until you had a nightmare.”
    â€œI don’t mean what you’re doing ! I want to know how you got in here.”
    â€œYou didn’t lock the door.”
    â€œNot at all ?” Oh, man. I must have been really tired.
    â€œNo, you didn’t. What if I was some kind of psychopath?”
    â€œAccording to the people I met with this morning, the jury is still out on that.”
    If his expression was any indicator—eyes narrowed, brows furrowed—I’d confused him. “What people? What are you talking about?”
    â€œNever mind.” I shuddered to think I had slept like Goldilocks while Jazz, or anyone, could enter my apartment without me noticing. “I can’t believe you came inside my apartment and got in bed with me.”
    â€œYou didn’t notice when I touched you, either.”
    I realized I wasn’t fully dressed and pulled the quilt around me more. “What did you do, Jazz Brown?”
    â€œI am still married to you.”
    â€œWhere did you touch me?”
    â€œYou know, the scriptures say the marriage bed is undefiled. And this, if I remember correctly, and I most certainly do, is our marriage bed.”
    â€œJazz, quit playing. Where did you touch me?”
    He rolled over away from me. Laughed. “Maybe I didn’t touch you at all. Maybe I just wanted to see what your reaction would be so I can gauge whether or not I can get away with it if the